Last night I went to happy hour for Allison’s birthday with some friends and co-workers. Being a birthday celebration and all, it turned into one of our party-all-night and hate-yourself-the-next-day happy hours. I didn’t get home till after midnight, and I’m pretty sure that I stared at my own reflection in the bus window the entire ride home like a crackhead. But that’s beside the point. I realized a long time ago that I hate having a hangover at work. HATE. The headache, the queasiness, the fact that I have to say hello to the director of marketing in the kitchen without puking on his shoes. But yet, at least once a month, I put myself in a situation which results in the Work Hangover. To allow you to get a feel for what the Work Hangover is like for me, I’ve outlined the phases below. 6:00 a.m.: Awakening I’m jolted into consciousness by the combination of my alarm clock going off and some sort of alcohol-caffeine-adrenaline rush. I’m confused, disoriented: I can’t figure out what I dreamed and what actually happened last night while I was drunk. Reality and hallucination combine into a big convoluted mess. 6:02 a.m.: Realization Shit. I have to go to work. Why didn’t I think of that last night? Why? WHY? 8:00 a.m.: Preparation I arrive at work and decide that in order to stay conscious, coffee is necessary. Obtain 1 medium nonfat latte. Try not to move around too much in order for stomach to stay settled. 9:00 a.m.: Production After morning meeting and coffee run, I settle in at my desk and am able to maintain sub-par level of output…for an hour. 12:00 p.m.: Destruction Am suddenly ravenously hungry and only for things containing high levels of grease and fat. Drag sorry ass to Jimmy John’s for not entirely unhealthy lunch, avoiding urge to run straight to Ginelli’s Pizza or that greasy burger place in the skyway. 2:00 p.m.: Dissolution It’s over. No amount of water consumption or eating of salt and vinegar chips is going to save me now. I can no longer interact with people, and blatantly ignore them when they come to my desk. I delete every email that arrives in my inbox. I throw important documents into my recycling bin, and curse the world, and vodka. 3:45 p.m.: Surrender I’m lying horizontally in my chair. My hands are on the keyboard but nothing coherent is appearing on the screen. People are asking me if I’m ok. I decide to leave early. 4:30 p.m.: Relief I’m home now. But instead of going to the gym or making a healthy dinner, I lay down on the couch, pop a Will & Grace DVD into the machine, and fall asleep to the sweet gay sounds of Jack making cracks about Will’s thighs and large vocabulary. I promise to never do this to myself again. 3 weeks later: Memory Block The co-workers want to go out to Rossi’s again, and I happily agree. We’re there at 4:00 ordering our first drink. Like Pavlov’s dogs, you can shock me repeatedly, but I’ll still go back for more. Maybe I’ll be smarter in my 30’s? | 
